


Snow Demons

by AEpixie7



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Cute, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 14:02:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16745368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AEpixie7/pseuds/AEpixie7
Summary: Throughout history, Aziraphale has seen only a few shining moments of good in Crowley. This is one of those moments. (Very short little sweet moment between friends. Not a particularly shippy work, but you can probably still tell the author ships it LOL)





	Snow Demons

“Why, in the _bloody hell,_ are we out walking in this?” Crowley asked, pulling his giant fluffy coat and blood red scarf up higher around his neck, shivering from the cold. Aziraphale walked happily beside him, his hands tucked comfortably in his pockets, the sun reflecting off the fresh snow and making his golden hair gleam brilliantly. 

“Because, my dear, it’s almost Christmas, and it's magical. The snow, the children playing… it’s beautiful, isn’t it?” 

He glanced over at Crowley, and almost laughed at the scowl on his face. 

“Yeah. Right. _Beautiful,_ ” Crowley hissed, the last word tainted with sarcasm.

“Well then why did you agree to meet me?”  
Crowley had the immediate urge to respond honestly. _Because you asked._

“Starting to regret that decision,” he snipped, his path trailing away from Aziraphale and toward the little pop-up café that appeared at the park every Christmas. 

“I'm getting a coffee, you want anything?”

“No, thank you, my dear. I’ll be on the bench.”

Aziraphale sat patiently on their favorite bench, listening to the children as they headed out on the frozen pond, their ice skates mixing with their giggles in the most delightful jingle. He sighed happily, glancing over when Crowley sank down onto the bench next to him, his gloved hands nursing a steaming cup of coffee.

“Oh come now, you mustn't hate this all that much? You've always insisted winter is the season of demons, haven’t you? And summer that of the angels?”

Crowley sighed, wishing he'd never made such a statement. 

“Yeah well, just because it belongs to me doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it. I keep _you_ around don’t I?”

Aziraphale blushed and smiled genuinely. Even though he had meant it as an insult, Crowley had still unintentionally suggested Aziraphale was _his_ angel. Crowley could be sweet. In the same way as peanut brittle laced with cayenne pepper.

A group of laughing children ran by, one slipping on a patch of ice and plopping into the powder fresh snow. His friends laughed, though he took advantage of his little mishap and began sliding his arms and legs in the snow and exclaiming “snow angel!”

Aziraphale beamed, glancing over at Crowley, who rolled his eyes even though Aziraphale hadn't said anything. 

“Like we need any more of you down here. And how are you so sure those aren’t snow _demons?_ ” Crowley grinned evilly, raising his eyebrows at Aziraphale. Aziraphale scoffed.

“Well, because nobody makes snow demons, dear boy.”

The edges of Crowley's mouth turned up slowly into a wicked grin. “You sure about tha'?” 

“Oh, no Crowley, don't…” Aziraphale protested as Crowley stood, handing his coffee to the angel. 

“Hold that for me.”

“Crowley, come on, leave the children alone, _really_ my dear…”

“Oi! You! Erm, kiddos,” Crowley blubbered, Aziraphale giggling uncomfortably behind him. He sounded like an absolute ninny using that word. “Why do you call them snow _angels?_ ”

The kids looked up at him like he must be thick.

A girl among the boys piped up, her puffy pink coat swishing as she strutted over to her friend and plopped down in the snow beside him. “Well cuz they've got wings, see?” she said as she swiped her arms and legs through the snow.

“Yes but demons are just fallen angels, so they could be snow _demons_ couldn't they?”

The children all stared at each other for a moment, slightly bewildered by a grown adult arguing over snow angels but also completely unable to construct a counter argument.

“No, demons have like, horns and tails an' stuff,” one of the boys muttered matter-of-factly, his friends nodding their heads in agreement.

“So you _could_ make snow demons, if you wanted to?” Crowley asked, and all the children shared another quizzical glance. Before Aziraphale could stop him, Crowley turned, his mischievous serpentine eyes meeting Aziraphale’s over those dark lenses before he folded his arms in front of himself and fell comically backward into the snow, earning a hearty round of laughter from the children. He flailed his arms and legs, creating a much larger angel than the children had. He sat up inside his silhouette, and turned, digging his finger into the snow, drawing a pair of horns above his head and then proceeding to draw a pointed arrow tail from one side, where the wings stopped. 

All the children considered for a split second, then erupted with excitement. “I want to try!” “Me too!” “My snow demon’s got really BIG horns, see?!”

Aziraphale sighed, smiling nonetheless. He shook his head, and looked down at Crowley, still sitting inside his frosty silhouette, his hands folded in his lap as he looked around triumphantly at the children, throwing themselves joyfully into the snow and drawing demon upon demon. 

Aziraphale felt a sudden, _overwhelming_ rush of affection. The same way he felt about those lazy days spent reading, or a piping hot cup of cocoa on a chilly afternoon. Crowley sat smiling, and for a moment Aziraphale thought he more resembled the children than a demon. Carefree and happy. Crowley smiled up at him then, and Aziraphale had to pull his attention away, so Crowley wouldn’t see the unabashed adoration on his face. Still, he couldn’t help the smile that lingered on his lips. He helped himself to a sip of Crowley's coffee, which he was a bit surprised to discover was sickly sweet with peppermint and chocolate. 

“Crowley, my dear, I do believe you are the _worst._ "


End file.
